Only In The Dark
by Velvet Storm
Summary: The war was looming. They were both worried and afraid of what the future would bring. What was wrong with finding a little comfort in each other...even if only in the dark?
1. Sirius POV

**So here's the deal...I was watching Brokeback Mountain the other night when this idea popped into my head. It's actually nothing like that movie. It was just the trigger (no pun intended!). And I do enjoy writing about pairings that are not the most popular, hence the two I chose for this story. It's short. I could post it as a really looong one shot, but I think chapters are more fun. This is just a little diversion from Irish Eyes...an exit for some snack food off the highway if you will. LOL I haven't written in quite this way before, so I'm using this as a test to see what everyone thinks. It's about two men, obviously, with a little bit of sexual description along the way, so if you have an issue with that, better wait for my next Irish Eyes chapter. ;)**

**As always, I'm a sucker for a review. It lets me know that the picture I'm trying to paint actually comes across. Thanks!**

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**Sirius POV**

If someone asked me to pinpoint the exact moment it started, I suppose I'd have to say the beginning of his fifth year. We'd met previously, of course, in his third year when I finally broke free of that hellhole I'd been locked up in, but it was a couple more years before anything would happen.

You see, his fifth year is when he and his family set up house with me, per Albus' request. My family home had been protected and served as the perfect location for the Order to meet and others to live. I had been lonely for so long. I welcomed the intrusion at first and was thankful to have others around to talk to.

It wasn't long before the arguments started though. Oh, Molly always did mean well, of course, and I understood her reasoning and protectiveness over my godson. But he was MY godson. She wanted to shield him from the horrible reality in his life and I wanted him to be aware as soon as possible, for it wasn't just his life at stake, but everyone's. I liked it no more than she, but it didn't change the facts. With Albus keeping his distance for fear Voldemort was using Harry's mind at his disposal and with Molly doing her best to keep him a little boy and with me practically on 'house arrest'…well one can see how I might lose my temper from time to time.

I still remember the night he knocked on the door. It all started so innocently. It had to have been after midnight. We had become friendlier over our days together, and between Hermione and Harry's friendship with me, I think he felt safe with me as well.

He was reluctant to come in; his freckled face about as red as his hair when I closed the door behind him. He wanted to talk about Hermione; like I didn't see that coming from a mile away. He wasn't comfortable with his brothers or his father so I was next. I felt honored actually. I'd never had a son (always wanted one), so I enjoyed these type moments immensely.

He wanted to know the typical things young virginal lads wondered about and I was happy to answer the few questions he had. He didn't stay long and soon returned to his room.

It was about a week before he returned with more questions, and I always welcomed him. I would have welcomed any of the kids, of course, but he was the only one to seek me out.

A couple weeks before Harry was scheduled to arrive, he came to my room again. Perhaps I should have told him it wasn't a good night for me, as I'd been indulging in self pity and was halfway finished with a bottle of Ogden's Best, but I didn't let him know I was upset.

Being the 'cool' adult in the house (after all it was MY house), I offered him the bottle I was drinking from. Come on, I was half lit. I certainly wasn't going to find a glass. This time his questions were not about Hermione. This time he wanted to know about my experiences. And being loose-lipped _and _half lit, I told him all about them.

In hindsight, had I been completely sober, I probably would have been a little selective about what I shared. However, I wasn't so I wasn't. To make things worse, the more we drank, the braver he became and the more explicit I was, not a good combination.

I know I shouldn't have told him about the summer fling Remus and I had while we were students at Hogwarts or that we occasionally warmed each other's beds still, because he began to ask a lot of questions that I was all too eager to answer. I slept with men and women (which muggles often termed bi-sexual I know), but I just called it being randy.

That's when he began asking the 'what does it feel like with a guy' questions and that's when my alcohol induced loose lips spoke before my brain caught up. We were both in my bed because, hell, there was no other furniture and the floor was filthy. And we were relatively close physically because we'd been taking turns at passing the bottle between us. When he asked what it was like to kiss a man, I told him that I really couldn't explain it, that it was something he had to experience for himself, but that it was an amazing thing.

Now, that being said, we chatted for a bit longer before he stumbled off to bed and I didn't give anything a second thought. I didn't have too many thoughts left at that point. I turned off the lights soon after he left and passed out. Next thing I know, I'm dreaming about kissing him, only I'm awake. I can't see him; only feel his hesitant lips on mine.

Perhaps I should have jumped away startled or gasped in surprise, but I didn't. I remained still and allowed the feather light touches of his lips to mine, still able to taste the Ogden's we'd shared. When I felt more pressure from his mouth, I opened mine just a little to gently touch my tongue to his lips, wondering if he'd let me explore. I could feel the slightest movement of his head, but he did not pull away. Instead I was rewarded with our mouths joining and tongues slowly wrestling for dominance. It was wrong, I know, but so delicious. My cock was stirring in slight jerks in response to what his kiss was doing to me. I remained still, though, not daring to touch him for fear of breaking whatever spell had caused this.

After he lifted his head and ended our kiss, he was gone. Five minutes after he'd left, I was spent, having easily brought myself to climax from his attentions.

Now I've never been interested in children, obviously. But he was almost seventeen. He was no child. I briefly entertained the idea of him coming to my room again, both of us keeping this huge secret, but told myself that it was only hormonal curiosity sparked by alcohol and sexual conversation. Perhaps he wouldn't even remember it in the morning and certainly there would be no more visits.

Well, even I can be wrong sometimes.

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	2. Ron POV

**Have I scared you off yet? Come on...I dare you to read! LOL Does their interaction sound a little odd, but maybe a little sweet at the same time? Read what Ron has to say...**

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Ron's POV

I didn't regret the kiss the next day. If it hadn't been for the alcohol, I never would have had the nerve. And what he was telling me about his experiences made me very curious.

Curious. That's what it started out as. I don't consider myself gay or bi; still don't actually. But we'd grown closer over the summer and the best part was he didn't treat me like a child. My parents still did and Hermione thought I was a dumb jock, to a point, but I'm not. I'm smart, just not as quick about things as her or Harry. And I would rather play Quidditch, but that's not all bad, you know? There are worse things.

He treated me like an adult…like a friend. It made me feel good. And I loved the fact he didn't try to sugarcoat everything. He answered my questions straight up.

I remember shaking my head when I walked back to my room, hoping that he wasn't offended at what I'd done. The next morning, I didn't have a whole lot to say, but when our eyes met across the breakfast table, I knew all was well and I felt better. His certain gaze showed me all I needed to know.

Ironically enough, we didn't seek each other out or try to be alone to discuss the kiss. Hermione and I still tried to sneak around, but my behavior towards him and vice versa remained completely unchanged during the day.

That next night, I knocked on his door again. I'd gotten in a row with Hermione and wanted to talk about it. I joined him on his bed, like usual, and we talked for a bit while our eyes shared an unspoken conversation.

I will admit that when I left, I waited in the hall for a few minutes hoping the sliver of light shining out from underneath the door would disappear. When it did, I went back and the door was open. I crept in slowly and silently, though I knew he wasn't asleep, and made my way to the side of his bed. Yeah, I was nervous, but there was something both exciting and comforting about this. It was just a matter of time before my mouth found his again, both of us more confident than the previous night.

He never pushed me. He never spoke. He just responded to me. Granted, we were doing nothing more than snogging, but for the time it was good.

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	3. Sirius POV 2

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Sirius POV

I suppose that's how the 'routine' started really. I discovered that when he would visit me in the evenings, that within a few minutes of me putting the light out, he'd come back. It was like the carnal adult version of pretend, I guess. During the day, we were just us. But when I turned the light out, we were two other people. We didn't discuss anything. We let our actions speak for us.

Ah yes. The night of the news and the storm. We'd all been on edge. People had been disappearing, including a couple Order members, and Harry and Hermione had been sent out and had missed their rendezvous time. All of us were worried, beyond worried really.

As a terrible storm thundered and rumbled outside, he visited me again and we drank some more in a futile attempt to deal with our concern for our friends. I don't think either of us had slept in two days, quite honestly. The mood between us was rather somber and we didn't talk much. When he left, I didn't wait long before turning the light off. I wanted…no I needed him back beside me.

We'd done nothing but snog up until that point so I wasn't prepared for him to crawl in bed with me since he'd usually just kneel beside me. I made room for him and he was instantly pressing his body to mine, but not sexually initially. He was scared and worried and I was too, so I held him while lightening randomly flashed through the window and thunder continued to rumble outside, rattling the old window panes.

This is where two warm bodies and two worried souls leads to dangerous situations. We held each other in silence for some time until I began to feel him hard against the side of my leg. I was halfway there myself, but I didn't know what to do so I just held him. Tight.

Looking back, I think instinct took over at that moment. When his hips began to move against me slowly, I knew what was happening. I'm not but a man, people. What could I do? Send him away? Reject him? I could never do that. He trusted me. I wouldn't betray such a precious thing.

I remember inching my hand down his slender body until I reached the loose waistband of his plaid pajama bottoms. He never pushed my hand away. He never said a word. Instead he rolled to his back a little, silently telling me I could continue.

I could feel the pounding of his heart. I knew he was nervous. Hell, I was terrified! My hormones were in control, but there was something else besides just lust. We were upset. We were worried. We were looking for comfort in each other. That couldn't be all bad, right?

He was soft and warm against my hand when I began to caress him while lightly kissing his neck and cheek, and his quiet moans were nearly my undoing. They were desperate little cries and whimpers, but he never pushed me away. His reactions encouraged me to continue; his hands gripped my arms and his hips lifted in time to my hand.

When he climaxed, he dug his fingers into my arm harder while biting his lip to keep from calling out. Listening to him was beautiful really because I knew for just a moment he felt no fear or worry, and those moments were near impossible to experience anymore. Before he left my side, he kissed me sweetly. Since there were no words spoken, I understood it to mean 'thank you'.

Did I question our activity? Of course I did. What sane person wouldn't? Ultimately I came to the conclusion that he wasn't a child, that he knew exactly what he was doing and that I wasn't forcing him into anything. In fact, he'd been the one to initiate everything when it came right down to it. Oh, I could have told him it was wrong, but when he would have asked why, I wouldn't have had an answer. I couldn't be like the other adults no matter how hard I tried.

So I stopped trying.


	4. Rov POV 2

**Oh goodie...I'm so glad some of you are being brave! I do appreciate it! Keep reading. Just a few more short little chapters like this and I'll be back to Irish Eyes.** **Let me know if you've read, would you? Reviews are wonderful!!**

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Ron's POV

I knew we were engaging in behavior that was taboo on quite a few levels. I'm not that thick. There was just something undeniable between us. Maybe it was just curiosity on my part. Maybe it was mainly loneliness on his part. Maybe it was fear mixed with worry on both our parts. All I knew was that I felt good when I went back in to his room. We'd easily slipped into a silent pattern of behavior without even trying. I knew when his light went out after a visit that I could return, that no words would be spoken, that we would be safe together. And I'm sure that most, if they knew, would say that he coerced me or forced me, but the truth is I was the one that started everything, not him. He was the hesitant one, oddly enough. How I became the aggressor I'll never know. I was still a virgin, for Merlin's sake. Sure Hermione and I snogged often and a couple times I was able to slip my hand under her shirt, but that along with the obvious jacking off I did, was the extent of my sexual experience.

During the day, our behavior was completely normal. When we talked, there were no innuendos or playful tones in our voices. When we looked at each other, there was no mischief or winks or anything like that, no 'knowing looks'. When our eyes met across the table during dinner or across the hall, there was just this instant and silent understanding between us. It only took one glance.

Did I think about constantly or fantasize being with him? Not really. It just wasn't like that. I had a girlfriend that I loved and wanted to be with and snogged every chance I got. I wasn't interested in men, oddly enough.

It wasn't until that light went out that my mind and body seemed to shift gears. I couldn't explain it then and I can't explain it now. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to visit him every night. Midnight was _our _time; our time to talk, to connect, to deal with our issues and fears and such the best we could. That just happened to be in each other's arms.

I think the biggest connection we found was that neither of us judged the other. I was so tired of all the comments from my mother or from my brother's. I knew what they said. I never claimed I was the smartest kid at Hogwarts, but I had a heart. So I wasn't the most charming or eloquent. I still had feelings. And often people forgot about that, whether because of my family's financial stature or my vocabulary or whatever it was.

Sirius never judged me. He accepted me for who I was. Not even Hermione and Harry did that really, not like I needed. And I didn't judge Sirius in turn. I'd heard the comments my parents had said about him in regards to how he'd lived and how he wanted to give Harry all the information he knew about Voldemort, but Sirius was an amazing man. He'd lived more than my parents had combined. So he was a little impulsive and quick to flourish his wand. He'd _lived_. He wasn't living right now. He was back in prison.

We understood each other as no other could for these reasons.

When I look back, it was as if we were leading two separate lives that never overlapped. We didn't let them. Somehow we knew they had to remain separate. Was it strange? To others I'm sure it would be. To us, it felt right and safe somehow. To us, it was as easy as breathing.

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	5. Sirius POV 3

**A big THANKS to those who have stepped out on that limb and read my 'diversion story'. An ever bigger THANKS to those who have left me a review. This has been an exercise in creativity for me since I haven't really written quite this way before. This has been fun. Who knows...I might just do it again...**

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Sirius POV

I missed him when he left for school, I'll admit, though I hated to. The morning he left with the other kids, I told myself that it was no big deal, that he'd be back for the holidays in no time. Unfortunately I knew each day would drag by and that I would roam around the house like a jilted lover searching for something to take my mind off of what was gone.

And that's exactly what I did. I had to watch myself though and make sure my behavior didn't attract any attention. I mentally kicked myself in the ass, of course. I was being silly. But I couldn't help it. I just enjoyed his company so much, even without the physical. I know many wouldn't believe it, but I missed him like I'd missed James when he died and Remus when I'd been sent to Azkaban, and that's saying something. I felt almost empty without him.

I did get a couple owls while he was gone, asking about situations with Hermione, just like our evening chats. I was deeply comforted by the fact that he was thinking about me. Did I dare think he missed our time together as well? The idea did brighten my days and nights.

When he did finally return, we picked up right where we'd left off. We didn't greet each other more than a friendly wave when he arrived initially, but he came to my room that night to chat, and every night after that over the holidays. My day wasn't truly complete without this precious time with him. I'd slept better the past few months than I had a few years previous. He seemed to have this calming effect on me and I didn't think anyone could do that.

I remember the night he reached for me for the first time. I'd been naked when he'd crawled into bed with me, sort of my unspoken permission if he wanted to touch me. After I'd stroked him to climax, his fingers began tentatively at my chest and slowly worked their way down until he began to hesitantly slide his hand up and down my length. He'd never done that before and my eyes rolled back into my head from his touch. He was a little awkward and his timing was slightly off, but I didn't care. I'm sure that I was the first man he'd touched and…well…practice made perfect after all, right? I remember lying spent in each other's arms afterwards for what seemed at least an hour before he left my side. I never moved away from him or ever indicated when he should go. He just left. It always seemed the right time.

The look on his face the next day was inquisitive. I saw it when our eyes met across the hall. That night during our chat, he'd asked about oral sex and it was then that I understood the expressions I'd seen during the day and his desire to touch me the night before. Shouldn't I, a responsible adult, have stopped what would certainly be regarded as highly inappropriate behavior?

I couldn't. He was my vice, but in a good way. You know, some people drank. Some people smoked. I was becoming addicted to how he made me feel both when he was around and when he wasn't. I couldn't say that about anyone else. He was so much more than just a 'lover'. I couldn't consider him just my 'best friend' either. He was my confidant, my stronghold, my security and my hope at a time in my life where I had little confidence, less strength, non-existent security and diminished hopes.

How did one place a title on all those things? One didn't. One just held it to one's heart for as long as possible, knowing it could be gone in an instant.

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	6. Ron POV 3

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Ron's POV

I knew what I wanted to give him as a 'present', so Christmas Eve after our chat, I went back into his room when he turned the light off, my heart pounding as I crawled into bed with him. I don't think he was surprised when my mouth found his bare skin. As my tongue licked his nipples and began tracing a slow path down his body, he moaned and shifted underneath me while his fingers slid into my hair to encourage me. His touch was always so certain in comparison to my virginal fumbling. He was so wise in the ways of the world.

I'd never done such a thing before nor had I had it done to me, but we'd talked about it and I'd heard other guys describe it so I knew a little. I took him in my mouth and soon my head was bobbing in rhythm with my hand that he controlled the pace of. It was amazing listening to the changes in his gasps and groans depending on what I was doing. I really didn't want to stop. It was intoxicating.

I know I'd said I wasn't attracted to men, but it wasn't his 'manliness' that held my attention and brought me back night after night. It was our…friendship?…well…whatever kind of relationship we had…it was that connection that did it. I admired him. I respected him. I cherished him and what he meant to me. And somewhere in the midst of all that, I wanted him to feel good. I wanted to pleasure him. I wanted to feel his hand grab my arm in reaction to something I was doing and hear his moans and sighs. We both deserved such contentment.

I remember after he took a few moments to clean himself off (since I didn't swallow his release), he pushed me to my back and soon his mouth was on my flesh. It was beyond bliss. It was beyond exquisite. It was also over before I could groan four times, but he didn't seem to care whether it took two minutes or ten. Obviously he'd done it before and knew exactly how to reach the goal. I remained in his mouth to the very end, and I remember thinking that I never knew pleasure and torture could exist simultaneously. Before I left that night after some time by his side in the dark just listening to him breathe, I kissed him deeply and slowly. It was the best way I could say thank you and 'Happy Christmas' without actually saying anything.

Often when I'd return to my room after an encounter with him, I'd periodically question why we did what we did. Who wouldn't? It was odd at best. We never spoke of it or acknowledged it during the day. We didn't acknowledge it at night either. When I entered the dark room, no words were ever spoken. We didn't need them. Our communication seemed to effortlessly transcend them.

We were embarrassed? Ashamed? No. There was honesty and sincerity in our caresses. So why didn't we talk? The question begged answering, I know. What purpose would it have served to talk? Did we have a relationship? No. Were we going to? No. Our unions were complicated as they were a blend of admiration, curiosity, lust, loneliness, desperation and fear. I loved my girlfriend, but she didn't meet all of my needs in the current stage of my life, to be honest.

If I loved her, how could I cheat on her, because that's essentially what I was doing, right? I asked myself that question too. It came down to that I didn't consider my actions cheating. Many would disagree, but let them step into my shoes for a few minutes to take into account the big picture.

Tomorrow was not guaranteed for any of us. People, including students, were disappearing left and right. Fear was an ominous cloud that hung over us every day. My heart belonged to Hermione and did not falter. She brought me happiness and a promise for the future; for our future. What she didn't bring me was safety, or at least the illusion of it, nor the deeper connection I was craving. Could he protect me from all harm? No. He was at much in jeopardy as I was, if not more, but yet I did feel safe with him, physically, emotionally, mentally and sexually.

We seemed to instantly understand each other's needs when everyone else was oblivious. He needed to connect with people. He couldn't leave the house, for crying out loud. Sure, he'd escaped Azkaban, but he was still in prison, wasn't he? He was lonely with much fire still in him. So why did he not spend time with Remus? Or Snape? Because I needed him. He needed to be needed. They didn't need him like I did.

I needed someone to hold me. I needed reassurance. I sound like a girl, I know, but I was fucking scared. I could have died. Even the bravest can crumble with death in front of them, yeah? I had to be the 'strong one' for Hermione. Who was the 'strong one' for me? My dad? Hardly. My brothers? Not quite.

He treated me like a young man and a treasured friend. He didn't explain things to me like I was five, as others did. He talked to me the same way he talked to Remus. I recognized the similarity in his tone of voice. I used to think it was the same way he talked to Harry, but there was a protectiveness only present when he spoke to his godson. That's the way it should have been really.

I felt respected and he felt needed. Was that so wrong?

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	7. Sirius & Ron POV 4

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Sirius POV

I hated when he returned to Hogwarts after the holidays. It wasn't because I was falling for him like a teenage girl exactly; it was because more people had disappeared and I was concerned. I was scared for both of us. The times we were together in the dark were the only moments we were truly at peace. Separating meant having to deal with a terribly scary reality that neither of us wanted. No one did.

I got word of the recreation of Dumbledore's Army and was extremely proud of Hermione and him to come up with it and proud of my godson for teaching all those eager students what they should have been learning in class. It gave me something positive to focus on since I felt so helpless being shut up in that house. The only time I felt relaxed was when he was by my side in the dark, when I could hold him and know for certain he was safe. He was always a source of joy. But that joy was far away.

He sent me owls to keep me up to date with what spells he had become adept at and I would reply with tips and encouragement. I knew that's what he needed. I heard how Molly and Arthur spoke to their kids and encouragement was not what they usually gave. Don't get me wrong. They were lovely people. They just had too many children to be able to meet all of their needs adequately.

I had been sitting in the library one warm spring day, wishing like hell I could be outside in the beautiful sun, when I heard his voice in the hall. He wasn't supposed to be back until school was over! I overheard Snape explaining to his parents that he'd begun to have dreams involving Harry and, per Albus' request, he'd been sent back here for a few days while Snape taught my godson Occlumency. Other students had been either moved or sent home as well, depending on how close they were to Harry; afraid he might infiltrate their dreams next.

That night, I greeted him with a smile when he entered my bedroom to chat. I didn't even have to answer the door anymore. He'd always knocked the same way; 'knock, knock, pause, knock'. Over the holidays, he'd knock 'his' way and then just open the door. I didn't mind. He was always welcome.

We didn't talk about Harry and the dreams; I didn't ask and he didn't say. He did tell me that he'd managed to get a little further with Hermione, that she'd let him slip his hand under her dress and into her panties to play a little. He'd been amazed at how it had felt to slide a couple fingers inside her and I remembered my first time with a girl being the same way. That's when he asked if men felt the same way. Well, needless to say, I'd only ever been honest with him, so I told him that men felt better (in my opinion), that they felt 'tighter'. He seemed intrigued by that and asked what other things men did together so I answered. His reactions were not of disgust, but of maturity and I felt proud again because what I was explaining would certainly cause most to be a bit squeamish.

I was just so happy and surprised to see him and looked forward to each evening once more. I'd take every one he'd give.

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Ron's POV

I couldn't tell him, or anyone for that matter, that I'd lied about the dreams. I just had to come back for a few days. It had been taking me forever to fall asleep at night and once everyone's lamps were out, all I wanted to do was slip into his room and I couldn't. So I lied. No one would miss me anyway so I didn't feel too guilty, although I did cringe a little when they moved some of the other students. I know it sounds horrible, but I didn't care. I couldn't wait until I returned to headquarters so we could chat.

He was so worldly. He seemed to know about everything. I enjoyed listening to his stories from his adolescence or from just a few years ago. He taught me so much. He'd always been quite the charmer with both men and women and it fascinated me to listen to his tales. I'd never met another like him and time passed much too quickly when I was with him.

When we began to talk about men again, I asked him questions, knowing what I wanted and knowing he understood what I wasn't saying. He was good that way. I wished Hermione and I could communicate so easily.

I waited in the hall with baited breath for him to turn the light off. When he finally did, with my heart pounding, I slipped back inside his room. When I climbed into bed, he was lying on his side, completely naked, with the covers at the end of the bed. He knew. He understood. And it was okay. I smiled nervously. Was I really going to do this? He did seem to bring out the adventurous side of me.

I climbed into bed unsure of exactly how the mechanics would work. As always though, he immediately put me at ease by controlling our actions. He showed me how we could pleasure each other at the same time, which just blew my mind. (I made a mental note to try that with Hermione eventually.) He also lubricated my finger with a wandless spell so that when he guided it to his entrance, I would not hurt him. I was relying on his assistance heavily as I wasn't sure what would happen exactly, but I trusted him implicitly. It was like my first year when I sat on my broom for the first time. I couldn't have felt more helpless.

I allowed him to control my actions. He was gentle and easy and, of course, correct. Men _were_ tighter and felt much different from women. His moans were encouraging though and soon he was so caught up in what my mouth and finger were going that he released my length temporarily. I just wanted him to feel good. Did I enjoy pleasuring him like this? Tremendously actually. When he climaxed and began to focus on me again, it was as if he could read my mind. I felt the tip of his finger at my entrance, which surprisingly was a bigger turn-on than I thought it would be, but he never pushed further. It was just enough to enhance my experience and I was spent rather quickly.

I remember it felt as if my whole body was quivering when I crawled up next to him. We were panting and breathing heavily and I thought I felt him shudder as well. I'd never felt closer to another human being and was glad that I'd lied to come home for a few days. I rested my head on his shoulder, wrapped one arm tightly over his waist and dropped one leg in between his. I couldn't get close enough. It's like I knew the clock was ticking.

I soon fell asleep. It was the first time in at least three months that I'd fallen asleep so easily. I even considered staying with him, wondering how it would be to begin the day in his arms, but I knew that couldn't happen. It would turn this into something neither of us was ready to handle.

I did stay longer than usual though. I didn't want to leave his side until I had to.

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	8. The End

**Last chapter...thank you to those who have humored me along this little detour on the highway of my stories and thanks to those who review as well. You know how much that means to a writer! And don't forget to check out the last banner too.**

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Sirius POV

I knew he'd leave my side at some point during the night, as it should have been. I will admit I did enjoy when he'd wrap his body around mine and allow sleep to claim him, but I knew I'd awake in the morning alone. Sometimes I was fast asleep when he'd leave, other times I was awake, but pretended to be asleep. He never spoke, not even a whisper, but often he'd touch my cheek gently or brush locks of hair away from my face before sitting up for a few moments, I'm assuming to watch me, and then slowly inch himself off the bed to return to his own room. When the door would softly click behind him, I'd invariably roll over to the pillow where he'd been, inhale deeply and fall back asleep with a smile on my face.

I was still amazed at him, or rather my regard for him. Being with him had become the highlight of my days. I just never dreamed that we'd be doing these things together. When Remus warmed my bed, it was similar to snuggling up in one's favorite blanket. Being with him, though, was new and exciting and there was a certain responsibility I felt for teaching him correctly, whether sexually or otherwise. And I did care about him a great deal. He was a good person with a huge heart and many underestimated him and his potential. I never did. I always told him he could do anything he wanted. I tried to stress to him to ignore those that told him otherwise.

I tried my best to be his friend and mentor, and in the process I ended up his lover as well. And I was okay with that. I was more than okay with that actually.

He stayed six days before going back to Hogwarts and came to see me every night, much to my delight. When we discussed Dumbledore's Army one evening, I grew a little irritated, though not with him, of course. I was irritated that I was shut up like the animagus dog I was. When I mentioned possibly helping, he told me…well I don't remember his words exactly…but they expressed fear for my safety. He did want me there, but he knew just how dangerous it would for me to venture out. I know he wanted to tell me to stay at home, but he understood more than anyone how truly miserable I was and wouldn't say it, though his eyes gave him away. They were always so expressive.

We went no further sexually, but we did continue to explore my experience and his curiosity within our boundaries and had some wonderful moments in the silence and safe haven of my bed. We were way past words. All we needed and wanted was to feel. And to feel something other than stress and fear. Every minute together was bliss.

The last night, when he slipped from my bed after another torrid hour of physical gratification, I argued with myself. In an instant, I jumped from bed, grabbed his hand and pulled him into a tight hug as my naked body pressed against his half clothed one. It was the most emotion I'd allowed, but I simply couldn't help it. I wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly, happy when he did the same, clinging to me as if we'd never see each other again. We knew life was changing. We could feel it. We knew our time was coming to an end as well, and I don't think either of us truly wanted it to, but knew it was inevitable. We couldn't stop it.

We weren't meant to last forever, after all.

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Ron - Current

No one understands and I can't explain it. School is over and Voldemort has been defeated once more, but I sit in the hall outside of his room and sob as if I'm in mortal pain. My knees are pulled up to my chest and I bury my face in the cross of my arms. He's gone. We lost him in the Department of Ministries during the fight. _We fucking lost him_.

It was horrible. A group of us from the Army went to rescue him, since we thought Voldemort had taken him, but it had been a ploy to trick Harry. Death Eaters swarmed around us and had their wands pointed to our throats when members of the Order showed up, including him. Why couldn't he stay home? Why did he have to come out with them?

I want to be mad at him. I want to hate him, but I can't. He had been in the first Army, I can't blame him for wanting to be in the second one, and especially considering how long he's been stuck in that house and considering his godson had been the teacher, I just couldn't blame him. But it doesn't take away the pain.

I crawl from the hallway to his room and up into his bed. I lock the door behind me and cry as I bury myself in the sheets that still smell like him; like us. I feel selfish for my sorrow; after all, it was another significant loss for Harry, not me. But no one knows what we'd shared. No one knows what we felt for each other or what we meant to each other. I never voiced it and neither did he, but we didn't have to. It was intense enough that it surpassed words.

Harry and Hermione have been my best friends since we were kids, but he had been my best friend too. I was closer with him than I'd ever been to another. I feel like a part of me died when he died. Of all the people, why him? He didn't deserve it. Hadn't he suffered enough? No one will ever understand me again; not like that. No one will ever accept me the way he did.

I continue to cry and pull the sheet over my head and curl up into a ball, realizing I'd never have another night in this bed. I'd never again be able to talk to him and ask him questions. I'd never again be able to sneak back in and crawl into his bed, never be able to kiss him and hold him and other unspeakable things.

Though 'we' only really existed in the dark, 'we' had been the biggest light in my life for almost a year. I doubt there will ever be a night when I don't think of him. I will never again see a light under a closed door and not remember all the times I waited for him to turn his off so I could go back in. We had a relationship that there was no definition for. I will never forget the man I'd grown to love.

As I lay like a child in the bed where we shared so much together, wrapped up in the sheets that still held our scents, crying for what I'd never get back and never be able to find again, I realize that he'll always be with me, if only in the dark.

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**Come on...you didn't expect a happy ending, did you? I think it's the first sad ending I've written actually. (I will admit being a little partial to happy endings, but it just wouldn't have fit here.) So I hope you've enjoyed it.** **We now return to our regularly written stories LOL**


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